There was a quick knock on the door a moment before his Stephen’s valet, Keating, admitted himself. Fuck, Stephen had forgotten about Keating. Earlier, he’d asked him to come up at a half past ten to help him dress.

With a squeak of alarm, Emily instantly dropped to her knees, her head perilously close to Stephen’s crotch. His cock twitched eagerly.

“Miss Westgate and Miss Pearce have arrived. Her Ladyship is in the parlor with them now.” Keating had a clean shirt and Stephen’s freshly pressed blue jacket draped over his arm. “Would you like wear your blue jacket this morning?”

He glanced down at Emily and her pleading eyes. She mouthed the words, “send him away.” His lips lifted in amusement. He had a mind to draw the conversation out to keep Emily on her knees.

Shifting on his feet, he made a show of thinking over his options. As he shifted, his crotch brushed against her pretty little nose.

“No, I prefer the green jacket with the cream colored waistcoat.”

“Very good, my lord.”

“Have my Hessians been polished?”

Keating draped the shirt and jacket across the back of a chair, then picked up Stephen’s discarded clothes and muddied boots. “Yes, my lord.”

Stephen nodded. “Return in a quarter hour. I shall dress then.”

“Yes, my lord.” Keating bowed with his usual stiffness and then left the room.

Stephen walked to the door and bolted it, and then turned to Emily, who was now standing upright, staring at him with those wide brown eyes.

He took another step toward her, then another until he was standing an arm’s length away. Up close, he could see her brown eyes were flecked with gold, just a hint of green outlining the edges. He breathed in the subtle scent of lemon that clung to her—so unlike the heavy perfumes ladies of the Ton often wore. And though her dress was far too large for her, he could see the outline of her slim body beneath.

“Can you please put on some clothes, for heaven’s sake?” she hissed.

He glanced down at his bare torso, then looked back up at her and smiled. “Does my state of undress make you uncomfortable?”

Her gaze darted away. “Shouldn’t it make me uncomfortable?”

“If you don’t like it, then perhaps you shouldn’t have snuck into my bedchamber.” He picked up the clean shirt off the chair and pulled it over his head. “You could have come to the door and requested a meeting. There was no need for subterfuge.”

“Ha,” she blurted, looking back up. “Your housekeeper mistook me for someone else, and when I tried to correct her, she wouldn’t allow me to get a word in edgewise.”

Stephen laughed under his breath. That did sound like Mrs. Porter. She was a whirlwind. Invaluable to the household, but a bit wild-eyed and disorganized. Chaos often trailed in her wake. It was a miracle the house ran as smoothly as it did.

“So I snuck upstairs with the hope of finding you.” Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. A flash of memory flickered in his mind’s eye—her pink lips, wet from his kisses. Her long, slender legs twisted in the skirts of her dress. Her warm body pressed against his.

Until this moment, he’d assumed he’d been too injured to compromise the maid in Scotland. Now… it was apparent by his body’s reaction to her that something more had transpired.

“What happened between us in Scotland?”

Her gaze fell to the floor and she became suspiciously quiet. His gut twisted. There was only one reason why that question would provoke embarrassment in a woman.

“Miss Michaelson, I must insist you tell me what happened.”

Her cheeks flushed crimson and he suddenly knew the truth of what he had done. He was the worst sort of cur to have taken advantage of her when it was she who had come to his aid.

Still, he needed to hear it from her lips. So he waited patiently, riotous inside, while she told him her tale.

“That night at the inn in Scotland, a man approached me. He was tap-hackled and fancied a kiss. When I declined, he forced himself on me. You must have heard the commotion, because you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him off me. A fight ensued and I am not even certain what happened, but a gun was fired. Everyone fled, save for you. I found you on the ground, bleeding.”

He raked a hand through his hair. It was a bizarre feeling, having large gaps of his life removed entirely. Worse was the necessity of relying on others to fill in those gaps.

“What then? Did you summon Lady Evelyn?”

“There was no time for that. I alerted the innkeeper, who summoned the local doctor. But there was nothing to be done. Your injury required the attention of a skilled surgeon and the nearest hospital was in Glasgow.”

“What occurred between you and me?” He could only hope it wasn’t as inexcusable as his fractured memory would lead him to believe. “Did we lay together in Scotland, Emily? That is what I must know.”

Glancing down at the carpet, she shifted on her feet.

“Emily, if I have done something to wrong you….”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “Yes, we were together. On one occasion. And that is precisely what I wish to speak to you about.”

Pushing out a breath, he leaned against the bedpost and regarded her skeptically. “What is it? A situation? A reward for saving my life?”

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing. Her face was flushed red and he felt a wave of sympathy for her. She was embarrassed and he could easily understand why.

“There is no sense in skirting around the material fact,” he continued. “You would like a bit of coin for your efforts and I agree that you are owed no less.”

If he thought she would be agreeable to a reward, he was very much mistaken. Her eyes went wide at his suggestion and her delicate hands balled into fists.

“You presume wrongly, my lord,” she said stiffly. “I would never ask for compensation for saving a man’s life. Indeed, I am here for another matter entirely.”

He stared down at her, bewildered. “And what reason is that?”

She closed her eyes and pulled in a breath, as though fortifying herself. For what? When she opened her eyes again, her gaze met his.

“I believe I am enceinte.”